


Not as a pleasure

by Anonymous



Series: Creative Salt [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Basically I got tired of all the Remus hate and decided to write something more peaceful and kind, Brainstorms - Freeform, Creative Burn Out, Exhaustion, Fluff, Introspection, Laying in the rain, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Warning for Remus and his intrusive thoughts, Star-crossed in the truest sense of the word, Storms, basically these two just want to be whole again but cant, because Thomas, hand holding, includes some of my own headcanons about Remus' motivations for revealing himself, mention of pee and poo though, mild backstory induced angst, nothing severe and no graphic gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 10:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19424221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Roman, Remus, a storm, a hill and exhaustion. The gentle memories of a past that can neither be recreated nor forgotten.They used to be whole once, a long time ago. Now the memories of those times grow weaker and the agony of their separation harder. But there are still moments of peace, of not quite wholeness but a simple closeness. For now that has to be enough.





	Not as a pleasure

**Author's Note:**

> As someone who actually has an abusive sibling who treats them like garbage, I got tired of all the Remus hate pretty quick. This is my response to all of those Roman hates Remus posts out there.  
> They used to be whole once, a long time ago. I have no doubt that the unbearable urge to be one again is something they both feel everyday.  
> Creativity has always been, and always will be a knight devoted to serving the will of his Lord.

Roman was never able to take part in this as often as he wished to. This, of course, being the literal brainstorm brewing outside of the mental manifestation of Thomas’ childhood home. 

Roman smiled in satisfaction at the sight of the storm in progress, lightening and rain and stray thoughts finally unleashed from the overburdened clouds that had been gathering for the past few weeks. The others had battened down the hatches back at the house to wait out this long overdue storm. Roman, as always, choose to remain outside and channel the storm personally. He’d taken off his boots quite some time ago, when the storm itself had still been a subtle itch at the back of Thomas’ burnt out mind. The preparation for the brainstorm had kept him too busy to indulge, but now Roman takes the time to dig his toes into the loamy earth below him.

Just a few hours ago this same green hillside had been parched and yellow, the ground hard packed and bone dry. The fruit trees lining the silver path picked bare, the few plants that remained, just barely clinging to life. The same creative exhaustion that had Roman’s every action dragging as if burdened by invisible weights, reflected in the state of his domain, drained of what little power and vitality they both had left. Roman could feel that weight slowly lifting as the wind howled and the rain continued pouring down in great sheets of biting cold needles. Each drop bringing with it fresh new ideas and plans. 

Before he knew it Roman found himself laying on his back, gazing up into the heavy clouds and admiring the life and strength that he could feel flowing back into him.

“Aaah isn’t this just wonderful Roman?” called a familiar voice to his left, “like stepping on a warm turd in the middle of a cold shower!”. Roman felt a small smile make its way across his face, barely turning his head to see the drenched form of Remus, lounging in absolute delight in the largest mud puddle that Roman had ever seen. 

“It is, indeed, a welcome sight” Roman murmured back, soft and intimate in a way few would think him capable of. The simile barely bothered him, not after an entire existence of many such descriptions. Besides which, Roman understood the intent behind the words perfectly well, and that was the most important part to them. He could feel the smile on his face widen into a soft grin, the tension in his shoulders easing by degrees. It felt good to be out here, seated in the middle of this ultimate act of creation, with his other half by his side.

Out of the corner of his eye Roman could see Remus stretch out a bit more fully into his puddle. The signs of his relief were impossible to spot for anyone who wasn’t intimately familiar with the constant ache and exhaustion. That came with squeezing out every drop of creative energy one had to spare, and then scraping out just that little bit more under the looming shadow of another deadline. 

Roman didn’t know how long they spent like that, laying in the rain shrouded in silence and a quiet kind of companionship that was so rare for Creativity to experience. Not when there was always so much to do, so many ideas to bring to life, so many deadlines to meet. Without realising it, Roman ends up closing his eyes, head tilted up into the rain pelting their little post. His mind preoccupied with hazy memories of another brainstorm, in a another time, when exhaustion didn’t weigh so heavily on their shoulders. When there was no Prince, no Duke nor any conflicts for succession. Just a simple Knight, doing his best to do his King’s bidding, trying so hard to hold to his oaths of service. 

_Even when it meant tearing himself apart with his own hands. Anything. Anything for the sake of his Liege Lord._

“Did I ever tell ya about the time I made that old snake swear off capes for a week?” Remus’ calls out gently, dragging them both out of the hopeless yearning that always followed memories of their past.

“Did you really? Roman shifts just slightly to see him better, his hand coming to rest face up halfway between his face and the puddle, his scarred fingers clenching with every boisterous boom of thunder, “Do tell. Was it the snake-banana thing this time, or the seal joke?”

Remus cackles gently in that slightly unhinged way of his. His usually high-pitched voice deeper and more subdued here in this little eye of calm that they had built for themselves. “No, No, nothing like that this time!” he said before launching into a tale that any lesser man would have difficulty stomaching, let alone following with any sense of coherency. 

Slowly. So slowly that he would be hard pressed to pinpoint when exactly it happened, Remus’ hand came to rest on top of Roman’s own. Neither of them said anything as Remus continued in his gross account of how Deceit found himself with a yellow cape that oozed a slime with the exact scent, taste and consistency of a jelly made from pee. 

Roman followed along, nodding with interest as Remus followed that tale, with one of a particularly inspired nightmare he had inflicted on Thomas while he was sick with the flu. All the while his mind absently reinforced the manifestation of Thomas’ house when a particularly violent crack of lightening shattered the midday darkness of the storm. Instinct prompted him to set up some unicorn floss insulation in the walls- to block out the noise and encourage feelings of safety- while he was at it. 

His fingers still clenched with every roll of thunder. Remus’ calloused hand still enclosed in his own, warm and safe and bringing with it a familiar tinge of wholeness. Something closer to the memory of a flavour then the taste itself. A fleeting impression of what they used to be. What they might someday have the chance to be again. If Roman had read the motivations behind Remus’ reveal and convenient defeat correctly, and he always has-if there is one thing Roman knows without a single shred of uncertainty it was his other half- then Remus, for once, intended to play the long game. 

Yet these were thoughts for another time, when Roman could consider their implications at his leisure. Soon enough this brainstorm would come to an end and Roman would have to go back to the house to let the others know that it was safe for them to go back outside now, if they wanted to.

But for now they were both content to enjoy this peace and the closeness that the brainstorm brought. Neither willing to think about what would happen after. 

_It was only for the storm, only until it ends and then they would part again and go their own ways._

For now they would enjoy the feeling of being together. No matter how much this simple moment paled in comparison to those increasingly hazy memories of being whole.

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from Wuthering Heights  
>  _'My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I am Heathcliff! He's always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being. So don't talk of our separation again: it is impracticable.'_


End file.
